The Darkness Before The Dawn
by Scotch-Mist
Summary: My first one-off with Hal and other S4 characters.


**This is my first 'proper' attempt at Hal, and Mr Snow, as well as some of S4's other characters. It may eventually spin out into a longer story...A cautionary tale of an Old One, or two, trying to do the right thing, for once. One strong swear word. Very interested to learn if I'm getting the new characters' voices, so comments and reviews are especially welcome. The Being Human characters belong to Toby Whithouse, the BBC and the other writers on the BH team. Oh...and for anyone reading The Seer...as a spoiler...no I haven't just...**

**The Darkness before the Dawn**

The one place she would never have expected to see him. From a castle, to a rundown cafe. In _Wales_. She's had nothing to do with the vampire network in years; she knows she is considered to be an exile. Any that are foolish enough to come near her, she kills. She has that right. She is one of the Old Ones, after all, the vampire 'elite'. Not one of the Council, or Guild, or whatever they were calling themselves these days...thank God...Eventually they left her alone. He's the only one she can ask. She knows it's been a long time, but he has to do it, for it to end, either way. She's tired, and she's afraid. The nightmares have been getting worse. She knows it's considered a coward's way out, but she's old, there's nothing left to see or feel but the oncoming storm, and she doesn't want to be part of that dark terror. An old friend told her about it years ago, she refused to listen.

"They wouldn't be that insane. We stay in the shadows. If humanity knew about us..." Her friend smiled sadly.

"They believe it is their rightful place. No matter that if we wipe them out, we will kill ourselves. We are hunters, do you really think if we found a way to survive without that need to hunt, that it would work for long? Even if we succeed, and have humanity crushed under our feet, we would turn on ourselves eventually. We will bring about our own destruction."

She's gone from one cafe to another, people watching. She was told he was here, just not quite where. She watches from the side-lines, the usual domestic dramas of humans, and vampires, alike. Who got off with who, is she really seeing him? The brief lives playing out...This is the final one for the day...she has to feed soon...

She spots the werewolf before she even enters the place. He looks at her as though she's nothing, which to a wolf is probably the right response. She holds her hands up, she wants no trouble. She takes her usual corner window seat, and waits for him to sense her. She tracked him down through Regus...

"Lady Ma..." She had him by the throat at the time, while his new born tried to scratch her with her claws.

"Do not call me that name..." She hissed the words at him, black eyes flaring. Regus, as usual, backing down quickly, an Old One, technically, himself, though he's the last one they would ever look for. She relaxed her hold, just enough to let him gasp a breath.

"No...My...Lady...sorry...Madam..." The painted new born is grabbing at her neck now...

"Regus...control her, or I will, and you know just what I can do, when I am in a mood..." He nodded.

"Michaela...please do not annoy..." She glared at him, the black warning still in her eyes. "Miss Marina...She is normally very nice...but she is older than me, I think, and she really doesn't like to be..." Michaela put on her forlorn look. Dear God, thought Marina, is this the kind they are recruiting these days? Regus's pleading look: _Please don't kill her, I quite like having her around..._Each to their own, she thought, releasing him.

"I thought you were..."

"Dead, Regus? Just travelling...a century or so...yourself?" He nodded, understandingly, looking down at his feet.

"Oh, you know, dusty tomes, scroll decoding, biting the odd virgin..." Michaela snorted at that. He looked at her, slightly wounded. "What?" She gazed up at him with infatuated doe eyes.

"Nothing..." Not _that_ daft, then, thought Marina.

"Where is he, Regus?" He gave her a mock look of surprise.

"Who?" Her eyes darkened again. "Now...Lady...sorry...Marina...Miss...Who are you...referring to?" Michaela looked from one to the other.

"Do you mean Hal?" Regus groaned. "Because, like, he's back in Barry...he was the reason I met..." She looked away, puzzled at Marina's glower. Then she screwed up her nose. "Was that meant to be a secret?" Regus pulled himself up to his full height.

"Leave this to me, Michaela..." Marina smiled, a hint of vampire malice showing, playing the game.

"Yes, Michaela...leave this to the grown-ups...one Old One to another..." Regus bristled a little, partly with pride, and partly with fear...not many remembered he was more or less an Old One...not an important one, but nice of her to remember...they might yet walk away breathing...Michaela flounced out, flicking her hair. He shrugged.

"She's really quite nice, when you get to know her."

"Hal Yorke is...where?" Regus flinched; the rat-like look was back on his face. He was trying to look innocent...and failing miserably.

"Relax, Regus..." She sat down on the broken chair. The bed and breakfast was the most dingy place she had seen in years, and she'd 'lived' through the plague years...

"I'm not here to cause trouble." She looked up at him; the dawning realisation was hitting Regus. He couldn't hide his amazement.

"You want to..."

"Exactly..."

"They won't be long now..."

"I know...that's why..."

"You need to find him..."

"Yes..."

There he is. How long has it been? He's looking at her as if she's a ghost...which she is, more or less, one of many in his past...She smiles warmly, no pretence, raises her hand, withdraws it when he makes no attempt to move towards her. He snaps out of whatever he's feeling, speaks quietly to the wolf next to him. He's young, she can tell, but he's strong, he's a fighter. Good, she thinks, he'll have to be. Hal moves slowly towards her table...not quite believing it's her… He sits down opposite, pulls off, what are they, rubber gloves? He's waiting for her to speak, to make the first move. Two Old Ones facing off normally means a bloodbath...She takes a deep breath, looks him squarely in the face.

"Release me...or end me..." There's shock in those familiar brown eyes, a hesitance, then the tight bravado.

"What? No...Hello Hal? No pointless drivel about the weather? Straight in with..." She smiles sadly.

"No, Hal. It's too late for chit-chat." She runs her finger along the edge of the table...immaculately clean, typical Hal...

"Two coffees." The wolf bangs two mugs down on the table, is that a Formica table? She's not sure...she's remembering the long wooden table she was turned on, the final act of his long pursuit. She looks up, he remembers it too, she knows that look of guilt...

"Today's specials are..." Hal actually twitches with annoyance.

"Not now, Tom." The wolf moves away, mumbling. She looks at him, searching for the old Hal; under the skin...He's clean...

"Have you heard...?" He looks at her sharply, then nods warily. She summons up the nerve to continue.

"The darkness is coming back...I can feel it..." she pauses to gaze out the window. There's so much she wants to say, but there's no time...

"I've only asked you for one thing, before this, in nearly five hundred years..." A frown passes his face.

"Four hundred and..." She smiles at him remembering just exactly how many years; she thought she was the only one who...she's losing track now...where was she?

"Give me this; for all that pain...set me free..."

They could be any 'normal' couple, the uncomfortable silence that hangs between them. She feels the need to explain...

"I have no heir. I never turned anyone...apart from..." They both remember that one. He reaches out his left hand, it touches her right hand for a moment. "I haven't killed in years...I haunted the blood bank at my local hospital. It worked for me..." He pulls his hand back.

"Stop it. You're already speaking in the past tense..." There's a deep pain in those brown eyes, she can feel his emotions, but there's no time...

"You turned me, I'm asking you as a protégé to her maker, release me...I have bad dreams...I see myself standing there, beside...Hal...let me go..." She can see the pain in him, written so close to the surface, why can't others see it? He's bone dry, there's no human blood in him, he's starving himself. And now she's laying this on him too. She takes a gulp of the coffee, then sets it down.

"I need to think...I can't just..." That deep root of humanity is plaguing him, but she's relying on that same humanity to free her...

"Oh you have to give me an answer, I have that right." She turns those pale blue eyes on him, it's an old trick, looking into another vampire's soul. It's there, she doesn't care what the others say, it's there, covered in all the blood...so deep...but she can feel it...

"Meet me tomorrow, Maslin Park. Do you know where that is?" She nods, the wonders of modern technology, a small piece of plastic in her pocket...connecting the miles, and the dots, like...magic...they'd have burnt you for that in the old days...

"I will give you my decision then." She nods, she can feel her eyes watering. He looks away, smiles uneasily at the wolf...

"Are you happy, Hal?" He looks back at her, as though it's an odd question, which for a vampire, she supposes, it is. He pauses for a moment, before replying.

"Yes, as much as..." She finishes his sentence for him.

"Any of our kind can be. Tomorrow, Hal." She smiles again, nodding at the wolf, who comes over to the table as she leaves.

"She seemed nice...for one of you...I liked her..." _Yes, Tom, she is nice..._thinks Hal…_and I made her a monster...Lady Mary...Lady Bloody Mary..._

"You could do worse, Hal, you know," Tom persists, not knowing the history, so much history...Hal breathes in, before speaking again.

"She wants to end it." Tom looks at him, understanding a little, she's a friend, a friend who kills people...

"You know, I could do it, I could just spear her a bit...mate…I can make it quick..." Hal smiles politely. He's been doing that a lot lately.

"That's very kind of you Tom, but she has to do it herself." _She'll finally be free of it...the blood...the hunger...the others..._he's already made up his mind. He'd forgotten how beautiful her voice was...her English so perfectly spoken, like a native...

Is there are a sadder place than a park in February, or is it March, she thinks to herself. She's sat on a wooden bench, past its best, the memorial nameplate worn with the seasons. A stark, almost colourless, landscape. She could end it here, right now, one good kick, and she'll have a stake. Bit unfair on the drunk lying on the bench opposite...that would sober him up, she thinks, feeling her lips curl into a grin. That vampire sense of humour...

She looks behind her, at a late, or should it be early, rose. It is clinging to its fragrance...she can smell its sweetness...She pricks her finger on a thorn, just to see her own blood again. She senses him, before she sees him. She knows his answer. When he's in his 'kind' phase, he will do the right thing. She's been counting on that...

"I release you." He's holding her hands; her forehead is resting on his chin, a last goodbye. She knows what that touch is costing him.

"That's it?" He lets her go.

"Yes, what did you expect?" She smiles sadly again.

"A few thunderclaps, Hell splitting open for a second..." A soft laugh escapes his lips, before the mask slips back into place.

"Where will you go? Before..."

"I haven't the faintest idea, Hal. Maybe I'll go somewhere quiet...meet a few of my own ghosts. One last adventure..." She's wearing a long winter coat. He pulls the fallen scarf around her neck, protectively.

"You always did feel the cold, Marina."

"Mother Hen, Hal?" His fingers stop on her shoulders. He's remembering every little bite on her skin. _He's remembering just what he did to me,_ she thinks...

"The past, Hal. Anything I did after you let me leave you, is my own burden..."

She strokes his face, the most tender act of her long, dark life.

"Goodbye, Hal."

She'd been guilty of terrible things in her own right, nothing to do with Hellish Hal. That had been her nickname for him, when he'd drowned them both in blood. He'd had many others over the years. She had come round from the blood in one house, to find Edgar Wyndam staring down at her with admiration.

"You know, it's a shame you don't recruit, Marina. We could do with a few more like you, soulless...ruthless...unyielding. It's like looking in a mirror..."

She had looked up at him, not understanding, the blood still clinging to her lips. He merely smiled, pointing to her left. A family lay all around her. She blinked the blackness away. Two children lay, their necks mercifully broken, but with the bite marks, her bite marks. The horror hit her so hard, she had always said she would never...She started to shake uncontrollably, the fear and loathing came at her in waves...seeing the blood on her hands...Wyndam had gone strangely quiet, a curious look on his face.

"My apologies, Marina. It would appear I was mistaken." He looked genuinely disappointed. "You should wait here until you compose yourself. It doesn't do to...displease your maker. I don't think Hal will be the forgiving type." He looked down at the bodies dispassionately.

"They would have died anyway. The plague will reach here soon." He stood, wiping his hands with a cloth. "You gave them mercy." He had shown his own kind of mercy next door. He sat down beside her, and calmly told her what he'd done, as though they were old friends. A judge and his wife, the man well known for his own cruelty in sentencing, a new born vampire beheaded, Wyndam had taken his own revenge. The man had thought he could trade his wife for his own life. Wyndam had fed from the woman, but only enough to make her drowsy, then let her watch as he tore the man's throat with his hunger, draining him dry, before dropping him to the floor with a thud.

"I can't stand the ones who offer someone else in their place." He smiled at the shocked woman, wiping the blood from his mouth. "I must be getting soft in my old age. Madam...run...I'd advise you to go north, we will be hunting in the south." The woman had looked at him in astonishment, not quite believing her ears. He smiled at her benevolently. "Now would be a good time..." She drew herself up and slipped quietly away, through the back door.

"Why?" She said it so quietly, but he heard her all the same. "Why did you let her go? I thought we were meant to…"

"Why not? I choose my battles, nowadays, Marina. The hunger can be a friend, or an enemy. It's all we have, no one stays around forever, not even Hal there." He looked at her seriously. "Go after the dark souls, Marina. It's the innocent ones who…" A blood drunk yell. A curse.

"Marina! Where are you?" Hal had finally finished torturing whichever poor soul had the misfortune to cross his path that night.

Wyndam led Marina from the family's home; Hal was standing outside, stretching his neck. How many had he killed that night?

"A present, Marina," an opal necklace.

_Don't look at the blood on it. He's taken that from…_

He slipped it round her throat, and gave her a possessive kiss on the back of her neck. A not so gentle reminder.

"Thank you, Hal."

"A fine recruit there, Hal," Wyndam said, a gleam in his eye. "Quite the bloodlust." Hal smiling, the proud maker, his smile for once reaching his eyes. Accepting the older vampire's compliments like they were his due. That was the Hal she'd known for so long. The unforgiving, malicious killer…but so struck with hatred for his own hunger, when the cycle turned. It did for many of the older vampires, she'd learnt that later, but not Mr Snow…Marina shivered at the very thought of his name. The rumour was that he had killed his own mother, being born, and hadn't stopped killing ever since. No conscience there to trouble him, just a purity of thought, the perfect vampire, sucking the life right out of those who stood with him. The invitation to Bolivia was not universally welcomed among Old Ones, with good reason. Few were strong enough to resist him, and those that did had a habit of disappearing, or meeting strange fates…

She's come north, some peace before it all begins. They'll come for her in the dark, she knows that. All the Old Ones together, at last. They'll all be drawn to the same place, to pay homage, but she'll be gone. If you're not with them, you are against them, and will be dealt with accordingly. Humanity, and vampires, sleepwalking together towards oblivion…

She's carrying a bag of 'proper' food shopping, enough carbs to blow a human's diet for a good few weeks, but then she hasn't had to worry about that kind of diet for a long time.

She's chosen her own stake, part of a rowan tree. Vampires can be _so_ superstitious. She's written letters to the few human friends she has, not asking for forgiveness, just to say goodbye. The vampire ones, so few are left and none would thank her for receiving a vampire suicide note, they are considered _very_ unlucky…

She's chosen the time and the place. Sunrise, by the loch tomorrow. Even now, in the winter, the sunlight plays on the water, it's beautiful. Before any inquisitive tourists appear…

A brief shot of beauty, before the darkness comes to finally claim her…

She's not even worried about what will happen after. Eternity…swirling around in torment, or blowing silently away on a soft breeze…into nothing…

Just a pile of clothes and ashes left on the pebbles of the shore, to be washed away into the waters, back to nature, eventually. She hopes that no one will find her things, imagine, the lifeboat being called out to look for a missing swimmer, the emergency services looking for a dead vampire…She chuckles, it would have pleased her once, to cause so much trouble, but not now.

She hears the whisper, that voice. It can't be. They can't be that close yet. You're imagining things, Marina. Goes with being an Old One, the connection, the calling. Suddenly there's silence. Not a sound around her, no cars, no people, not even the sound of birds…She hurries on to the village, last minute preparations. Post those letters, Marina, everything is fine. The post office. Humans and their queues. The young mother in front of her looks harassed, she hasn't enough money in her purse, and her child is kicking off with a major tantrum. The buggy is rocking with his temper.

"Here, I'll get that." The woman turns.

"I don't need charity." Marina smiles, such a human response.

"No, you can pay me back later. Pop it behind the bar in the village. You live in the caravan, by the bay, don't you?" The woman nods.

"Thank you, come on you." The child is looking at Marina strangely, children often spot her kind; know there's something not quite right with them…

She pauses, then she opens her purse again, pulls out all the notes and coins, and stuffs them into the collecting tin on the counter. The Salvation Army. Oh the Gods of Heaven and Hell have a very dark sense of humour…She's given Regus a large bonus for his 'assistance' too, and a word of advice:

"Run…"

A very large bank transfer will be in her local hospital's charity account in the morning too. Not strictly blood money, that would be inappropriate, mind, but the money's there to be used in memory of lost souls…and one in particular…her boy…Alexander.

Hal destroyed her husband, her family, tortured her for weeks, before turning her, and yet, the hatred she felt for the first hundred years is just a fleeting memory now. She's remembered all the faces, all the screams, and now it's time. It's such a cold night now, even a soul would freeze…She wondered if he would feel it, when she…

That was how it had all begun for her, or ended, depending on the point of view. The troops who'd come to her village. They were army physicians, they said. She'd taken Alexander to them, "Please help him…" The young man standing, those eyes, the soft, spoken voice. Her desperate pleas…But Alexander got worse instead of better, his life draining away…

"What will you give me…?" Realising too late, the true cost, looking in the child's now dark, haunted eyes, and knowing; "I should have let him die an honest death…" Ending his suffering; and running, only to be hunted down in a war of attrition, losing one loved one after another. She had never chosen this 'life', she knew why Hal had turned her, she had fought back…her hate fuelling his rage. Old history now…nearly at its end. She shivered. Why did her kind always feel the cold? _Because they were meant to be somewhere much hotter…_

An old memory. A roaring fire. _Don't look at what's turning on the spit_…A hall in a nameless castle. Was it Hal's? Blood drunk celebrations, another human enemy dispensed with, glasses filled to the brim with their blood…and raised in a toast. Their lord and master was here…Mr Snow draped over the chair at the head of the table, a timid servant at his side, her eyes flickering about her. Wyndam, sitting to the right of Mr Snow, Hal to the left. Mr Snow getting lazily to his feet, a glass in his hand.

"To Lord Harry, and Lady Mary, Lady Bloody Mary." A deep chuckle, as the party around them roared their approval…then the cracking sound of the woman's neck breaking as Mr Snow fed from her. "A little light supper, anyone?" There's enough blood in here to coat the walls, but there will never be enough blood for their 'King'. Hal, basking in the malevolence, the black-hearted 'son'. She, on the other hand, whispering softly: "My name is Marina," blinking back bitter tears. The rest, lost in the blood, even Mr Snow, but not Wyndam, and his sharp eyes, and ears…

Wyndam was the one asked to find her. That had been a red rag to her, alright. He would be the only one who could find her, other than Hal, or…_him._

"You think I want to be standing here," he said, testily.

"Oh I'd say you're loving it, you always did like the mind games." Oh her tongue could be as sharp as her teeth, when she started. He gave her that look, as though she were a child, which to him she was.

"He wants all of his children, Marina, you can't stop it, you can't fight it. He may well drag us all into Hell to achieve his goal. You think you've known pain…I've seen the future. It is us, or them…"

_But he hadn't seen his own future…_She'd hated him even more than Hal, at one point, for what he'd done…but the past was the past. He'd grabbed her arms, furious that she wasn't listening.

"There is no alternative. If you won't come willingly, you will be torn, kicking and screaming back…" He had let her go, that surprised her, it never happened. He'd held onto her arms so tight, she had bruises. He softened his tone.

"Marina, we have never seen eye to eye." He sighed, turning away from her. She was getting just the slightest sense of…He turned those blue eyes on her own.

"Either start running, or make your affairs in order." She stared at him, dumbfounded. That was not the party line. He had such a strange distant look.

"We are meant to look after our own, that's what I'm doing, Marina, whether you listen to me or not, whether you like what I'm telling you, or not. You don't have long. None of us do. The decision has been made." He turned away.

"You have doubts…" She said it hesitantly, not quite believing she was right. She heard the intake of breath, then the truth…

"We are monsters, Marina," he said it with such vehemence, "but…" It was there for just a second, then it was gone. "Humanity won't know just how much, until it's too late. It is our rightful place, to take over." There was the arrogance she remembered.

"You never did have much time for humanity, Edgar." He looked up sharply; suddenly looking so human…had he ever been human, many had their doubts.

"I did, for one." he said it so quietly. "I destroyed her…" He stopped himself.

"Aagh…" the self-assurance was back. "We will succeed, or we will take them with us to Hell." His mobile rang, he checked the display, a look, then he pressed a button. Before he could put it back in his pocket, it rang again. He checked the phone automatically, completely at home in this time, the Saxon survivor. He put it away.

"Anyone would think I had nothing better to do. John Mitchell…being a fine, upstanding, moral vampire…_again._" She'd heard of him, Paris was a well-worn tale.

"Hal's in England, Marina, Southend. He thinks I don't know…" he'd smiled, wistfully. "It's my job to know. What you do with that information…that's up to you." He'd looked at her with something close to sadness, in those old eyes.

"Goodbye, Marina." He'd made her mind up for her. He often did that to other people, that ability to press just the right buttons. A werewolf…_How_? He'd been twice her age. All those years, gone in a moment. She sighs.

There are stars in the pitch-black sky. She's walking back to the lodge, her final 'home'. She's stayed in worse places; she's stayed in finer ones too. The sudden silence again. She stops, looks around herself. She can hear the trees swaying in the breeze, the creaking…

Then it hits her. The hunger. She feels it, but it's unlike anything she's ever felt before. Every inch of her is burning and tearing at her at the same time. It is consuming every part of her; every nerve in her body is on fire. She stumbles in the dark, her eyes, oh God, she looks up at the moon, the blackness in her eyes dims the white light. The familiar voice, that they all recognise, beautifully soft, yet arrogant and commanding at the same time…cutting away the dark voice they all live with…

_Oh Marina…did you think you could hide from me…Ssh child…_She feels her heart and lungs constrict, her head feels ready to burst, the pain…She looks up at the small stone building ahead of her. She can hear voices, young voices. She's near the primary school…

_No…please…my Lord…anything but…_

The tears are there, she's trying to cry out, but no words are coming out of her mouth. She can hear children's laughter, mocking her own silent cries. Why are they here so late? She's too weak to fight him…

_Yes, my dear, you haven't been feeding, you haven't been killing…I'll take care of that…come back to me…I've missed you…I can take away all that pain…all that doubt…Welcome back…open the gate…let me in…_

Her hand is on the wrought iron gate. It creaks in the ice cold air, the sound echoes in her brain. She strains every sinew, every nerve, and she swerves away from the school, dropping the shopping and trying to run…

"No…I will _not…_" She can feel her fangs piercing her lips, she's struggling with the most savage hunger she's ever felt…She can hear voices behind her, the pub's doors swing open…She covers her mouth, shuts her eyes, and forces her inhuman body to turn away. The pain that's shooting through her…it's blistering agony…but she's fighting the pain…

He lets her go, just as quickly.

_Soon…my sweet, dark girl…_

She grasps for breath, leans against a tree, not believing she's managed to fight him…for even a second…they are near…_he's_ in the country. She doesn't have long. If she runs a bit further, for a little longer…

She's ready to thrust the stake. She's standing a few feet into the loch, maybe it will wash away some of her sins. Just as she goes to plunge the stake, she hears a scream…a jolt goes through her…an almost electric surge through her veins…something's ripped away from her soul, what's left of it…the scream fades in her mind…then silence. That has to be a First One…let it be him…She can't hear the smooth voice…Mr Snow has fallen…

She looks at her hands, the stake still in them, she drops it.

"I'm free, he's gone…" She's laughing now, splashing back to the shore. She stops at the sound of a man's voice.

"You alright, hen? You look like you've won the lottery." She smoothes her wet clothes, she must look manic. She hasn't touched a drop of blood since she left Hal in Barry. It's a fisherman setting up for the day.

"Yes, I'm fine. Just glad…"

"To be alive?" The man's smiling. She nods. "Glorious day, isn't it? God is in his heaven, right enough." Marina's own smile is beaming.

_My God is dead…and in his Hell…_

She's no fool, the hunger will come back, but the darkness has lifted, if only for a second of her long, diabolical life…

He hears the front door open. He snarls his response, tugging at his tethers.

"Fucking bitch! Untie me now! I will go after your fam…" The slap shakes his fangs to their roots.

"Language, Hal." He blinks the rage away. She's standing there in front of him, looking very much alive.

"Marina." He wants to touch her; the hunger is piercing through him again. He pushes it back down.

"Hello Hal. You've drunk, haven't you? You're not turning vicious again?" He forces a smile, his eyes gaze down at his cuffs, tied to a chair, plastic sheeting around him…the indignity of it…

"Trying hard not to, Marina."

"It gets harder for you every time, doesn't it?" She sits down on the edge of the sofa, facing him.

"Yes…" His familiars have no idea, she thinks.

"He is gone, isn't he, Hal?" A hint of a smile on his face.

"It was a very big explosion, Marina."

"I hope it hurt him," her voice sounds so cold, "I hope it ripped him apart into a million pieces…"

He stays silent; he'd been so close to falling himself. The War Child died in that explosion and Annie…

"You're going dry again, I take it?" He nods.

"Yes." In contrast, she knows she has to let her back in. The twisted side has to reign, there's no other way she will be strong enough to face what is to come. If she can keep all the different factions from imploding, avoid the civil war that always follows when a group of Old Ones falls…what happens will depend on who is in hiding. A First One fell, no one's sure if there are any of them left…

She has her own reputation, earned in her own right, and a hundred years of mystery as to where she's been, and what she's been doing. Her name should be enough for now. She has to come back for there to be any change…back into the shadows…that's where they are meant to be…

He knows what she's thinking, what it will cost her to let her back in. She stands, uncomfortable at his pain. She tries to brush it off, a bemused smile.

"Well someone has to run Head Office. You are the technically the oldest one of us, still standing so…I'm assuming you don't want the job? "

"No!" The loudness of the reply, message understood. She turns to look around the room, the strangest mix of colour and clutter, she's ever seen. She runs her finger along the bar, not looking at him.

"Dust, Hal? You're slipping." He smiles.

"I don't think I'll be in office long." She turns and holds his gaze. "Someone older will crawl out of the woodwork sooner or later. Literally in our case." He smiles again, at her little joke.

"A new world, Hal. Where we can make our own mistakes, and earn our own victories…" He knows it's the final time. He won't see her again, in this life anyway. She's doing this so he doesn't have to.

The door closes quietly behind her.

A single tear falls down his cheek. The mask is back in place. A whisper.

"Goodbye, Marina."


End file.
